


In Sight, In Mind, In Heart

by Satine



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mentioned Kim Jonghyun, Minho is like a huge coward, Minor Onkey, Mutual Pining, Protective Minho, Romantic Fluff, Subways, Taemin is the one who takes the lead, There's a brief mention on onkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine/pseuds/Satine
Summary: Taemin's savior is no prince charming on a white horse; instead, he's a handsome, tall stranger whose looks scream jock from head to toe. Yet, Taemin couldn't have asked for more.
Relationships: Choi Minho/Lee Taemin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	In Sight, In Mind, In Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on [Asian Fanfics](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1116788/11/in-sight-in-mind-in-hea) and [LiveJournal](https://shineemod-k.livejournal.com/1227.html) so many years ago for Colorful World fic fest 2016. Only now have I finally brought this to AO3.
> 
> Prompt #94: "A handsome tall guy in sportsgear saved Taemin from a packed train were a pervert is. The encounter is short, the savior leaves with not much to say. Taemin takes the same train every day in hope to meet his love at first sight."
> 
> TW: There's a brief non-consensual groping scene right on the beginning of the story. Other than that, it's pretty PG-13 tho.

Taemin had to refrain himself from throwing an angry look towards the great amount of people that were insisting on cramming into the subway despite its overcrowded state—he didn't exactly blame them for doing that, since they all (like Taemin himself) just wanted to get home after an exhausting day. Nevertheless, there were already so many people in his section of the car that now some law of physics were probably being put to the test—whoever had said that two bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same time was _clearly_ mistaken.

Fortunately, Taemin didn't have to put up with this situation very often; today he only took the subway during rush hour due to a History paper that had kept him until late at school. Still, he couldn't accept that there were some people who endured this on a _daily_ basis: keeping on standing until your feet ached, while sharing body heat with complete strangers and feeling these same strangers' sweat against your own skin ( _yuck_ )—these thoughts alone were more than enough to have Taemin wishing to make his way out of the car at _this exact moment_.

Body fluids aside, taking the subway was a pretty interesting experience from a social point of view; here Taemin could see individuals from all walks of life, ranging from the ones who'd been born with a silver spoon in their mouths to the not so lucky ones who had to work hard every day in order to pay for their _only_ meal of the day. Thanks to this _diversity_ , Taemin enjoyed killing time by guessing other people's backgrounds when trapped in a packed subway during rush hour.

For example, the privileged people who had gotten seats for themselves had promptly offered them to an old lady right after she got in the car, yet she kindly turned all of them down for she'd rather stand by the closest exit door. This resulted in many confused stares aimed straight at her—why the hell would she stand up throughout the whole ride when there was no need to? Taemin knew the reason though—the old lady was actually afraid of missing her stop. Plus, if her constantly looking at the subway map meant anything, she wasn't even sure _which_ stop she should get off at.

Now, this had been an easy guess; Taemin in reality found deep delight in the most difficult ones—like those two businessmen clad in gray suits standing side by side on a spot to Taemin's left. The formal attire went along better with the older man's looks, making it a good match with his black glasses and sober features; whereas the younger one seemed incredibly out of place inside such uptight clothing—he had blond-dyed hair, countless piercings on his ears and didn't seem to be half as serious as his counterpart for he didn't hesitate to slightly sway his body in rhythm to the music blasting through his flashy pink earphones.

So far so _normal_ —they were a mere pair of coworkers taking a subway ride after a long day of hard work, right? Yet, this wasn't the whole picture for Taemin had caught sight of _things_. Things such as how the blond man had looked pretty _irked_ when a teenager girl brushed pass him as she headed for the doors, however he still hadn't voiced any objections to the sneaky hands resting around his waist. Whose hands were those? The glasses man's, of course.

Not only that; the blond man had also offered one of his earphones to his hyung and the glasses man accepted it straightaway even though he was wearing a somewhat apologetic expression throughout this whole exchange. Taemin bet his monthly allowance that he had been enjoying for real the classical music that always played on the subways; but he still indulged his dongsaeng's good intentions—who appeared to be a great fan of K-Pop girl groups, by the way.

Taemin even dared to go further and guess that they were going to spend the night together; therefore this wasn't a mere pair of coworkers—this was actually a couple of lovers going home to enjoy this Friday night in each other's company. He stifled a heavy sigh at that, trying hard not to let something akin to _envy_ poke him in the gut—Taemin wished he was allowed to do such ordinary thing as dating someone he truly liked. Still, this would remain solely a dream for the time being because Taemin himself had chosen to put the whole " _coming out of the closet_ " matter on the back-burner until he got into college (a _good_ one, he hoped). Plus, Taemin couldn't exactly whine like a 5-year-old kid since this had been a decision of his, so he restrained himself.

Letting go of these thoughts before they'd get to him, Taemin allowed his gaze to wander along the packed car in order to find another prey for his unorthodox guessing game. His eyes were attracted by the sight of a tall man in a red and blue jersey jacket, but his interest was short-lived—the stranger was wearing a soccer-themed T-shirt underneath this piece of clothing; Taemin didn't have to take a look at the guy's lower body to know he was also wearing shorts and a pair of soccer cleats. Thus, he had no trouble coming to a conclusion: _a jock, how predictable_.

Taemin went on to the next one: a middle-aged woman farther at one of the ends of the car—red lipstick, stern features and a clearly tense stance. _Her job must stress her out pretty often… Maybe she has a demanding boss? She must deal with—_

Every assumption that Taemin's brain had come up with upon seeing the woman died away as fast as they had been born, for he now felt something around his _backside_ area—more precisely, a _hand_. His posture grew stiff at that, risking a glance sideways in order to comprehend _what the fuck was happening_. Taemin could _sense_ it—there was an overpowering presence over to his right, where stood an everyday man who no one would ever be suspicious of. _Nothing is what it seems_ , his mind warned by reminding himself of the confidential couple he had spotted before.

Nonetheless, the current matter at hand was: _what should I do?_ It wasn't like people taught kids at school how to react when a pervert touched you without your consent. Yeah, mothers generally gave their daughters some piece of advice if the need ever arose, however Taemin was a _guy_. Common sense stated _erroneously_ that men weren't victims of sexual harassment—and yet they were, people simply swept it under the rug out of shame. Useless bullshit aside; _what should I do?_ He couldn't let out a scream or slap the man's hand away; if he did so, the other passengers would most likely eye him strangely as if he'd just thrown a fit—needless to say; this would be _too_ embarrassing for Taemin.

Once again: _what should I do?_

Taemin couldn't fight the grimace that twisted his features upon realizing his impotency; brow deeply furrowed, teeth worrying his lower lip in wavering and terrified eyes rounded as if they'd pop off his face at any moment. _Maybe if I take a step away from him_ … Although this action would have Taemin's left flank practically glued to the girl by his side as a consequence, he didn't care a bit about this _minimum_ detail since there was a freaking pervert grabbing his ass—besides, this oblivious girl surely posed no threat to Taemin when compared to the asshole that was _still_ groping him shamelessly.

Grasping this spider's thread-like hope without looking back, Taemin had barely motioned towards her when a bold hand clasped one of his ass cheeks daringly.

A startled sound escaped from Taemin's lips but no one heard it, no one heard it over Tchaikovsky— _oh, God, no_. He lowered his head, hands balling into fists as he fought hard against the unshed tears threatening to fall from his eyes—he couldn't cry, what would people think of him if he started to weep all of a sudden? This was too mortifying; Taemin needed to occupy his mind with _something_ —something; _any_ thing.

Thus, he decided to focus on good things—Adam and Eve sleeping curled into each other, his mother cooking dinner and his father rattling about his job. He pictured Taesun back at his uni, studying diligently per usual, and this reminded Taemin of the rosary beads his brother had given him before leaving home. Since then, he had them around his wrist at all times, so he now knew what to do ( _what should I do?_ )—maybe amidst Hail Mary's and Lord's Prayers he'd find some peace of mind, even if it were only momentary and so unlike his current state. Taemin held his head high, promptly ignoring the uninvited hand wandering around his body as his prayers took his mind far, faraway.

He was whispering under his breath his tenth Hail Mary when the muttered sequence "Sorry, excuse me, thank you" awakened Taemin from… From himself. He frowned upon noting that the sound was getting nearer each time the polite words were repeated; and caught sight of some people clearing the way for the owner of such rich baritone that Taemin could hear effortlessly even over the classical music. The nasty man by his side stilled his actions as he too eyed the moving crowd in apprehension—obviously, his look wasn't a curious one like Taemin's, but one filled with dread of being caught red-handed.

And then Taemin saw _it_ —the same jock from before was heading for his direction with evident determination. He had huge doe eyes which were glaring with admirable intensity at the _disgusting being_ by Taemin's side, and his intentions were as clear as water—Taemin had seen _it_ ; this stranger had come to his rescue, _thank goodness_. His handsome features were displaying strong loathe and this added to his tall and build-up frame had the pervert quickly taking his hands off Taemin like the boy's skin was on fire; his eyes wide open in fear while he took as much steps as possible away from Taemin.

The jock stood close to Taemin almost protectively and the youngster tried to convey his gratitude fully through his gaze—that was _the_ man. That was the man who had noticed Taemin's discomfort, Taemin's alarm, Taemin's _repulsion_. That was the man who was about to end his misery. Taemin's message seemed to get through just fine since the jock threw a warm and sympathetic look towards him before placing one strong hand around one of the pervert's elbows—who had cowardly frozen every single move of his since he'd first taken note of the jock coming his way.

"Excuse me, I'll take out the trash," this was said in a whisper, the man's baritone overwhelming Taemin's ears with its _velvetiness_. It took him a couple of seconds to notice that the man—Taemin's _savior_ —had meant it to be a joke although his tone had been anything but humorous.

His slow brain finally processed everything that happened in that split second, and Taemin had only time enough to mouth a weak (yet filled with honesty) _thank you_ to the jock before he started pulling the pervert behind him so both of them could get off at the current stop. Upon seeing the distressed expression adorning that son of a bitch's face, Taemin stopped himself from waving to him in mock amusement as he was forced to exit the subway car— _it serves you right, asshole_.

Despite his enraged thoughts, Taemin hoped his savior wouldn't beat the shit out of that pervert (he wouldn't, right?), for no matter how revolted he was Taemin _never_ approved of any violent act whatsoever. Actually, even though he had no idea what that jock's personality was like, Taemin predicted almost like a sixth sense that a kind person who had helped a complete stranger in such shameful situation would never resort to violence as a means of punishment.

Still, truth be told, the pervert's well-being was the least of Taemin's worries—the jock was all he could think about. First things first, what was his name? Taemin had the feeling that he would spend a _looong_ time thinking dearly about this stranger and he'd hate to refer to that man merely as _the jock_. Rather, Taemin would call him _savior_ —but it wasn't _enough_ nonetheless.

Taemin touched his rosary beads gently as he wrapped up his prayers right before getting off at his usual stop, leaving behind a wish to run into his savior once more.

* * *

Fruitless—this word summed up Taemin's weekend _perfectly_. He weren't able to focus on his studies _at all_ during these two days; how could he pay attention to Chinese characters, verb to be and Joseon Dynasty when every time someone said _sorry_ , _excuse me_ or _thank you_ , Taemin felt a pleasing chill course along his spine upon reminding his savior's baritone? He had even let out an embarrassingly girlish squeak when his father asked him to take out the trash later that night, how mortifying.

However, Taemin predicted that he would soon be freed of this sudden agitation of his because **Monday** had finally come. Yes, Mondays sucked in general and it was a particularly hard day to Taemin (the simple act of getting out of bed in the morning was quite a challenge itself), but he held great expectation for today because humans were creatures of habit who tended to rely on routines to their last breath.

His savior; Taemin hoped he was used to following this _natural_ rule since he intended to stay late at school again in order to take the subway at the same time as he had on Friday—there was no History paper this time though; he would occupy himself with some homework that wouldn't be exactly _home_ work since he'd be doing it at school. Taemin had even gone through the trouble of taking the _same_ subway, despite being able to take three different lines to get home since his house was well-situated in downtown Seoul.

A quick scan soon told Taemin his savior was nowhere to be found on the first subway car he'd gotten into, however he didn't allow himself to feel down: Taemin started walking determinately from car to car while enunciating a (now) familiar sequence of words— _sorry, excuse me, thank you_. Upon reaching the end of the subway after an unsuccessful search, Taemin leaned against the metallic wall close to one of the doors as energy drained from his body, and he _certainly_ didn't sulk inwardly the whole way home.

 **Tuesday** was (unfortunately) Monday replayed, even so Taemin had to acknowledge that his studies were a _bit_ more productive that day—it had been out of infantile spite though; Taemin was somewhat upset because things hadn't worked out as planned and this led to him frustrated with himself for being overly shaken by such small thing. ( _You're studying for your college admission test, you have more important things to care about_.) Taemin tried to justify his unreasonable behavior by claiming that he wished to find his savior _just_ to thank him properly. This was the _only_ reason, all right.

Taemin faced **Wednesday** 's disappointment with a mildly impatient click of his tongue as he tried hard not to think that his failure meant he had _unnecessarily_ put up with packed trains for three days in a row. Instead, Taemin comforted himself with the thought that he still had two more chances to go—actually, he could have as much opportunities as he wanted as long as he truly set his mind to finding his savior. However, Taemin wouldn't do so, would he? Keeping on searching aimlessly for a stranger; this was something too dumb (and weird) to persevere for too long, right?

 **Thursday** was pretty much like the rest of Taemin's week. Of course new things happened in his classroom every day, but school was now the last thing in his mind; no matter how hard Taemin denied it, what _actually_ mattered for him was meeting with his savior. No, today he didn't catch sight of that handsome, tall man in any of the subway cars—much to Taemin's annoyance.

Nonetheless, when **Friday** came along, Taemin's optimism had been born anew after realization hit him with the weight of a thousand bricks—his savior was clearly older than him so he was surely in college since Taemin himself was still on his last school year. Class schedules were a total mess in universities, so it made sense that Taemin hadn't run into him in the other days—his savior probably took the subway at different times at each day of the week.

After such _vital_ insight, every ounce of silly hope that Taemin had been unconsciously nurturing throughout this whole week made itself known, growing inside of him to such extent that he could feel it _buzzing_ energetically under his skin— _today is the day_ , his heart told him.

As he walked across all cars in search of his savior for the umpteenth time this week, Taemin couldn't help recognizing some faces from the previous Friday: this time blond guy and glasses guy had been lucky enough not only to get seats for themselves, but to sit side by side. They were sharing those pink earphones once more and Taemin felt like chuckling at the resigned look on the elder's face as he mutely endured his dongsaeng's music style. The stiff middle-aged woman from before was also present and Taemin found out she worked for a well-known politician, which explained a _lot_ about her always uptight posture—no, Taemin hadn't meant to eavesdrop her call; it wasn't his fault that she talked so loudly on the cell phone.

Still, Taemin's savior, _that jock_ , was nowhere in sight. Friday was an utter misery.

It hurt a _tad bit_ —this was an understatement, of course. Having every hope of yours crushed when you were the only one at fault for unreasonably holding high expectations wasn't something easy to take in stride. Yet, Taemin believed he had managed it just fine by burying himself under his studies for the rest of his weekend.

Naturally, there were some _vital_ questions tickling in the back of Taemin's mind, however he preferred to turn a blind eye to them all for the sake of convenience—ignorance was bliss, after all. Nonetheless, a few of them ran wild inside his brain, making Taemin question himself for growing _attached_ to a stranger so quickly. _It's just a foolish infatuation_ , he reasoned to no one in special before brushing it aside despite his frantic heartbeat.

This particular Monday was a pain in the ass and Taemin didn't find in himself the will to stay late at school since he could hear _it_ ; his bed calling him back home. He told himself this wasn't him giving up on his quest—Taemin would try to find his savior at some other time in the week, he really would; however not today when he was practically sleep _drunk_.

Purely out of habit, Taemin headed for the platform of the same line he'd been taking since last week and he had no trouble finding an available seat in the first car he'd gotten into—actually, the subway was pretty empty since it wasn't rush hour yet. He decided to sit on an especially vacant row for he knew he would probably sleep throughout the whole ride—taking a nap before strangers' eyes at a public place was embarrassing enough; Taemin certainly wouldn't force them to put up with the view of his wide open mouth as he dozed off.

As soon as he sat down, Taemin welcomed his slumber.

* * *

Taemin opened his eyes slowly; no haste in having them blinded by the subway's blazing lights—this was in vain though for he promptly squinted after realizing he hadn't been prepared for such brightness. When his sight was completely free of dark spots, Taemin allowed his gaze to wander along the shady windows until focusing on the digital clock beside a nearby door—its red numbers told Taemin his nap had lasted around twenty minutes only, therefore he surely hadn't missed his stop. (Not even in his dreams would Taemin be able to get home in mere twenty minutes.)

He clicked his tongue when he felt his still lax neck give in to the car's swaying, making his head bob slightly. Funny, his head was leaned against a very smooth surface _way_ different from the usually hard subway seats—how come that? Frowning to himself in confusion, Taemin rubbed away the lingering traces of sleep from his eyes and recomposed his stance so he'd be sitting properly on his seat at last.

There was a motion to Taemin's left; the unfamiliar, smooth surface brushed against his arm and had Taemin looking out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what was that _thing_ pressed so _gently_ against his side. He took a glimpse, catching sight of a man (no way would a woman have _that_ muscular frame) squaring his shoulders as if to get more comfortable on his own seat.

The smooth surface was the man's _right shoulder_.

Taemin had slept with his head on a _stranger_ 's shoulder.

His cheeks were colored in a furious red within the snap of a finger, but mortification didn't kill away Taemin's good manners for he turned to the person straightaway; all sheepish eyes and flustered face as he apologized, "I am so sorry, sir, I—" Taemin interrupted himself, the words dying on his throat when he fully processed the sight before his eyes.

It was _him_.

It was him: the stranger, the jock, the man, his _savior_ —whatever name Taemin had been calling him in his thoughts and dreams throughout these last ten days. He was _really_ there; they were so close to each other that Taemin swore he could feel the man's body heat faintly through all layers of clothing in between them.

Taemin closed his mouth after realizing he had just spent full five seconds jaw-dropped, staring openly at the man in shock. This did no good to his blush; now Taemin's cheeks were getting warmer than it was _humanly_ possible and his savior had clearly noticed this since there was an unexplainably _knowing_ look behind his gaze.

"No need to apologize," sheer honesty practically _dripped_ from the man's baritone, indicating he wasn't saying this out of politeness. So it looked like he was cool with strangers drooling on his shoulder during subway rides— _interesting_ ; Taemin filed this piece of information away. The man then shrugged before turning his eyes back to the empty row of seats parallel to them.

Yes, this had been obviously a dismissal of some sort, however Taemin wasn't willing to leave their interaction at that after spending a whole week searching _compulsively_ for this man. "You see…" He began, trying hard not to be driven away by the man's aloofness as he kept his gaze trained forwards. "I'm really grateful for what you did. On Friday," Taemin had no idea why he felt the need to specify the day; it wasn't like this man stopped sexual assaults from happening all the time, right? He surely remembered Taemin... Right?

The man eyed him sideways without facing Taemin properly, "Don't mention it." Something in the way he shook his head in negation told Taemin he wasn't solely saying _you're welcome_ ; his savior wished to spare him of the discomfort of revisiting the circumstances of their first encounter.

Despite the man's evident apathy, Taemin could sense something underneath all that impassivity—something tern, _warm_. A good heart filled with good intentions. _I can trust you, can't I?_ Taemin was now thankful for the fact that the man still hadn't faced his way properly, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to muster up every single ounce of courage he had hidden inside his lanky-self to voice these words, "My name is—"

This time Taemin didn't cut himself midsentence; a female voice on the background was responsible for the interruption as it announced robotically the line's next stop. The subway came to a halt and the man promptly stood up, grabbing hold of what seemed to be his belongings (a backpack, a laptop bag and a trainer bag), which had been placed on the vacant seat by his side.

Taemin finally comprehended that the man would get out of the car soon and he tried to conceal his deep letdown at that—well, at least his face wasn't flustered anymore. Somewhere in the back of his mind Taemin took note of the still great number of available seats on this car—had Minho sat by his side _deliberately_?

He was secretly glad to see that something akin to regret flashed behind the man's big eyes as he stood by the door, fully facing Taemin at last. "I'm Choi Minho," he said it unexpectedly gently, and Taemin had to stop a new blush from tingeing his cheeks.

"My name is Lee Taemin," he replied enthusiastically and his voice cracked slightly—God, that had been _so_ embarrassing!

Minho ( _Minho, Minho; his name is Minho_ ) tried his best to bow politely while carrying his three bags, and Taemin didn't bother to stifle a timid giggle of his part at the man's cute clumsiness. However, before any of them could say anything else, the metallic doors opened themselves. This was Minho's cue; he threw Taemin an apologetic look before leaving, "See you around?"

This had sounded like a question somehow, to which Taemin promptly nodded in confirmation although Minho had already left— ** _yes_** _, I'll see you around_.

* * *

Taemin's dilemma was now a different one—what time should he take the subway? Should he stick to rush hour or get back to his normal schedule? He ran into Minho ( _Minho…_ ) exactly on the day he hadn't done anything out of his routine, despite Taemin's previous efforts at finding him.

_What should I do?_

He wasn't a romantic one (this was his friend Jonghyun's cup of tea rather than Taemin's), but he couldn't stop this foolish reflection from getting to him: their second meeting had been by chance only, so maybe destiny fancied them together?

No matter how stupid Taemin felt for coming up with such a sappy resolution, he still decided to leave their next encounter to fate's hands. _Love (love?) does things to people indeed_.

* * *

Taemin didn't see Minho on **Tuesday** and, truth be told, he wasn't quite surprised by that. After all, fortune seldom smiled twice in a row on him.

* * *

It was **Wednesday** and Minho didn't show up, but this didn't affect Taemin's foolish hope at all. He blamed it on his upbringing though; his mother had always said that good things come to those who wait.

* * *

Despite having only a _very_ tiny bit of his curiosity satiated, the pleasure of knowing his savior's name ( _Minho_ ) renovated Taemin's attention partially when it came to his studies. Only _partially_ because Taemin's mind was still filled with Minho's big eyes, Minho's handsome profile, Minho's long legs—honestly, he didn't know what to make out from this… _Obsession_ of his. Obsession? Taemin didn't like this word, it made him sound like a stalker who would trespass people's properties and disrespect their privacy—which wasn't Taemin's case, by the way, since he'd only met Minho in the subway and public transport was (duh) _public_.

Taemin didn't bother hiding the grimace that twisted his features upon realizing the lack of vacant seats in the subway he'd taken this **Thursday**. He had stayed after class for just a while to ask his teacher for a more detailed explanation regarding a particular topic and now it wasn't exactly rush hour yet, but it was around that time in which you'd better keep close watch otherwise you'd wind up standing up for the whole ride due to unluckily taking one of the few (already) packed trains. Fortunately, Taemin spotted a lonely, empty seat after walking along three cars.

He sat down as fast as possible and was promptly sandwiched by a businessman in his late forties and a girl whose eyes were glued to her cell phone screen. Lips pressed in a rigid line in response to the subsequent body contact, Taemin set his backpack down on the space available between his two feet on the floor. His mother disapproved of this habit of his since it got his backpack dirty pretty often; however Taemin couldn't help it because he simply _hated_ placing his belongings on his lap with all his might—Taemin couldn't put into words how uncomfortable this was to him; spending the whole subway ride with his bag on his lap, "restraining" him.

His unfocused, slightly somnolent eyes were barely making out the people on the row before him, yet today Taemin wouldn't sleep for sure—there were too many strangers around; it wasn't worth the embarrassment. Despite his absentminded state, Taemin's gaze instinctively slipped to the pair of doors nearby when they slid open at the next stop, eyeing vaguely the unlucky people who would find no vacant seats.

Taemin was thunderstruck upon recognizing a not so familiar face, "Minho…ssi?" The name fell from his lips in a surprised exclamation before he could think properly; honorific added in Taemin's haste so h wouldn't treat him too informally—Minho was his hyung, after all.

"Hey, Taemin," Minho greeted him coolly as he made his way to the boy. He tried his best not to bump into anyone, but this turned out a hard task to accomplish when carrying his considerably large backpack while having both hands occupied by a laptop bag and a soccer ball inside a net carrier. Minho positioned himself before Taemin's seat, who frowned upon seeing him fumble with his bags.

His lips parted in a cute, O-like shape when he comprehended his hyung's intentions, "Let me help you," Taemin solicitously offered his help, reaching out to get hold of Minho's both laptop bag and the soccer ball.

"Are you sure?" Minho asked hesitantly even though Taemin was already setting his belongings down on his lap. Although his spine was in mild pain due to the heavy backpack, Minho still wished not to abuse Taemin's kindness.

"Yeah, why not?" Taemin shrugged, holding back a smile after noting that now Minho had no trouble grabbing one of the handles to steady his body as the subway swayed its way on the rails. "So… How are you, Minho-ssi?" As it could be seen, making small talk wasn't one of Taemin's greatest talents; he wanted to listen more to Minho's deep voice though, so this would have to do for now.

"Fine. You?" Although this wasn't quite the answer Taemin had expected (he wasn't asking for much, he just wanted Minho to say something longer than three-word sentences), he still could sense some _care_ in Minho's baritone—it had sounded sincere, Minho wasn't being respectful only; he was truly interested in Taemin's well-being.

Thus, Taemin nodded happily in confirmation. This motion was cut short when he saw out of the corner of his eye a woman stand up from one of the ends of the row, but Minho didn't seem to acknowledge the just vacant seat. Taemin tried not to read too much into this; yet it was already too late— _is Minho willingly standing up just to talk with me?_ He mused before he could stop himself.

Taemin ended up asking a different question, "Did you have a hard day, Minho-ssi?" He gestured to Minho's bags and the clearly tired look currently tainting his handsome features. The girl sat beside Taemin snickered and then turned her face away from both Minho's and Taemin's sight, yet it was in vain—Taemin was already blushing furiously; was this girl making fun of his attempt at conversation?

Thank God Minho pretended not to see any of this, finally giving Taemin a proper reply, "My day hasn't even begun yet." It looked like Minho intended to say only this, but, much to Taemin's surprise, he explained himself further after taking note of his interrogative gaze, "Today I still gotta study for my exams."

"Oh. That sucks," Taemin muttered without thinking, and was taken aback by Minho's soft chuckle.

"Yeah, it does."

Taemin smiled widely at such spontaneous response of Minho's part, "Minho-ssi—"

"You can call me hyung, Taemin," Minho sounded respectful even when interrupting someone, how adorable. However, before Taemin could ask him _the_ question (one that would have bothered Taemin more if he were a truly kind person) the usual female voice resounded through the subway car, killing all magic between Taemin and Minho just like it had done on Monday. "I'm afraid this is my stop," despite having just asked Taemin to call him in a more informal way, the elder was suddenly acting overly polite towards him.

Minho gave Taemin a long, weird look and only then the youngster realized that Minho was in reality embarrassed of unceremoniously taking his bags from Taemin's lap. So he handed them to their rightful owner while holding back an amused grin at Minho's awkwardness.

Oblivious, Minho gave one of his clumsy bows while holding his bags carefully, "See you around, Taemin." This time it didn't sound like a question, which warmed Taemin's heart deeply in _assurance_.

Although Minho had already begun to walk away, Taemin replied wholeheartedly, "See you around, _hyung_." He liked how the honorific rolled sweetly on his tongue.

Taemin wasn't sure if what he heard then had been Minho's laugh because the lady in the background was still talking, asking passengers to be careful of the doors. Now it was official: Taemin hated that woman's voice.

* * *

There was a question.

It was a question that should be annoyingly pestering Taemin's brain in pursuit of an answer; however this hadn't happened yet for his mind had been _drowned out_ by Minho's face. Despite his intense yearning, Taemin didn't run into Minho on either Friday or Monday and it went without saying that the weekend in between these two days was sheer torture to him—Taemin's amount of "Minho material" for daydreaming increased greatly after their last encounter, making it almost impossible for him to focus on his studies.

In spite of all that, that question ( _the_ question) was soon clarified, and quicker than Taemin had expected—because Tuesday turned out to be Taemin's lucky day.

Minho was the one who spotted him first, and this wasn't the only change of scenario: Taemin was currently in a hurry to get to school after having nearly slept in—fortunately, Adam and Eve had started yapping in a somewhat soft manner by his bed and they effectively woke Taemin up before it was too late. Now his hair was tousled, his school uniform was in disarray and his breakfast (an apple) was in his hands—Taemin definitely didn't wish for Minho to see him in such conditions, yet he didn't hesitate walking towards the man with cheerful steps so unlike his mildly drowsy state.

All seats located on Minho's row were taken, except for the one to his left, where he had placed his belongings. Seeing the clueless look in Taemin's half-lidded eyes as he stood without action before his hyung, Minho wordlessly took his bags and set them down close to his feet just like Taemin did with his own backpack. Taemin offered him a small sleepy smile to express his gratitude, and promptly sat down on the just available seat while trying not to grin too widely at what that meant— _Minho wants me to sit by his side!_

"Good morning, hyung." Taemin greeted him with a whisper; the subway was so silent in the morning that he feared disturbing its peace. Minho nodded back and the simplicity of his response would have been a bucket of cold water to anyone's enthusiasm if Taemin hadn't noticed the corners of Minho's mouth quirked up in a reticent yet amused smile.

When late for school, Taemin would usually stare apprehensively at the subway's digital clock as if wishing for time to slow down so he wouldn't be too tardy; however today he found himself facing Minho as much as possible when sitting by his side. He couldn't help comparing "evening Minho" with "morning Minho"—the first one had always been seen in sports clothing only, whereas the latter was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans at the moment. _He's wearing soccer cleats though_ , Taemin pointed out to himself, hoping that Minho's hadn't caught his intent look to his feet. _So he has soccer practice after classes?_ Taemin guessed upon catching sight of his soccer ball by his laptop bag on the floor and the clearly heavy backpack set on his lap.

Taemin finally raised his eyes after deeming his analysis done; a strong blush quickly spreading across his cheeks when finding himself face to face with Minho, who had his brow slightly furrowed in response to Taemin's long gaze aimed at him. He knew Minho's eyes were _huge_ all right, but seeing them _this close_ made Taemin feel so… Small, pliant, _subdued_. Behind them there was such confusion that Taemin's only wish was to take Minho's face in between his hands and ease the creases present in his handsome features.

"I—I…" Taemin stuttered as he got his back glued to his seat in order to have a safe distance between Minho and him. He didn't know what to say ( _hey, sorry for ogling you?_ ); rather than talking about this strange exchange, he wanted to pretend it had never happened— _then distract Minho with something else, duh_. And this was how Taemin remembered _the_ question and skipped all formalities in order to ask, "What did you do to him?" Now he wasn't whispering out of respect, but out of _shame_.

Minho's eyes shone in comprehension—yes, he knew whom Taemin had referred to no matter how vague his inquiry sounded to any outsider. He cleared his throat as he stalled answering the youngster, the action sounding earsplitting in contrast with his silent persona. The sight of such a serious look on Minho's face felt just like a cold wind blowing through Taemin's heart, "I didn't beat him up—"

"I know you didn't," Taemin shook his head to indicate his certitude.

"…If that's what you're asking," Minho concluded his sentence anyways, unprepared for Taemin's sudden interruption. Minho pursed his lips at the assurance in the youngster's statement, and Taemin _knew_ —how? He simply did—that Minho was holding back a glad smile for knowing that Taemin hadn't expected him to act violently. "I handed him in to a security guard nearby. I didn't disclose any information on you, don't worry," this was said in a low murmur for the sake of privacy, and it was just like _music_ to Taemin's ears.

"I'm not worried," he assured Minho in a light tone, nonetheless the sobriety in the elder's face didn't go away. "I know I've already said this, but thank you again. Hyung," Taemin felt this foolish need of calling Minho "hyung" whenever he had the chance.

Minho surprised him by rolling his eyes, and when he had just parted his lips to reply the subway came to a halt as its next stop was announced by that lady's annoying voice. Taemin couldn't stop a childlike giggle from blubbing up, however it was cut short after noting Minho's inquisitive and somewhat entertained gaze.

"This is my stop," he explained as he stood up, careful not to step on any of Minho's belongings. "It feels good not to be one cut off for once," Taemin shrugged mischievously and Minho rolled his eyes once more, yet this time the motion was somehow playful. "See you around?" He repeated Minho's usual goodbye jokingly and was happy to see Minho smile so widely and sincerely for the first time— _damn, he should star a toothpaste CF_.

"Remember to eat your breakfast," Minho motioned to the apple in Taemin's right hand as the boy walked slowly towards the closest pair of doors.

"I sure will, _mom_ ," Taemin teased before leaving at last the subway car.

This earned a loud laughter of Minho's part—one so loud that Taemin dared to say he could hear it even from the platform.

* * *

Taemin endured a whole month "sans" Minho—sans in between quote marks since his eyes, his smile and his face didn't leave Taemin's mind even for a single day. He tried not to compare himself to those silly girls in love who spent entire days sighing longingly while looking out the window as if waiting for their significant other to pass by at any time.

... _Maybe_ Taemin should stop reading too much shoujo manga.

Despite having his hopes crushed every day for over four weeks, they persevered nonetheless and Taemin hated himself for feeling a pang in his chest akin to a stab each time his expectations died down in frustration upon not spotting Minho in the subway. So when he caught sight of a familiar figure after a tiresome school day, Taemin ran towards Minho in an embarrassingly fast (and slightly _desperate_ ) manner without thinking twice.

He didn't even have the time to blush at his shameful haste before skipping all polite greetings such _as long time no see_ or _good afternoon_ in order to shoot point-blank at Minho, "You had no soccer practice today, hyung?"

Minho had a minimum smile curling his lips in response to his dongsaeng's sudden appearance, "Yeah. How?..." Minho trailed off as if realizing only now that he wasn't wearing his usual sports clothing. "Forget it, dumb question," he said it sheepishly, promptly removing his backpack and laptop bag to get the seat beside him vacant for Taemin. He cracked a thankful grin at that, sitting down straightaway—but not without first noticing an inscrutable look of praise ( _praise?_ ) in Minho's eyes, which soon became a concerned one, "Did you get to school on time?"

Taemin didn't bother concealing the surprise on his face; he had indeed been late for school in their last encounter, but this had been quite some time ago— _Minho still remembers it after a whole month?_ Taemin pushed these thoughts aside for the good of his heart and mind, "No, I missed my first Math class. I don't regret it though." He chuckled at his own words and Minho soon joined him, much to Taemin's joy.

"I remember my school days… Studying 24/7 was a living nightmare. People say you always miss high school when you look back, but I really don't," Minho's unfocused eyes (probably trained on his past) had Taemin suspecting that the man didn't even realize he had said this aloud.

"Did you already play soccer at the time?" Taemin didn't mean to sound too prying, however Minho looked particularly talkative today so he'd take as much advantage of it as possible.

"Yes. I got into college thanks to soccer, actually," Minho was now back to his attentive stance; authentic interest in his eyes as he faced Taemin.

"Do you intend to play soccer for a living?" Taemin cocked his head to the side, hoping this would help distracting Minho from the fact that Taemin was acting just like an employee at a job interview as he fished information from the elder.

Minho shook his head, eyebrows raised in doubt, "I have no idea." Taemin didn't know what to make out from such an uncertain answer. "What about you?" Minho was clearly trying to step off the spotlight by putting Taemin under it.

Yet, Taemin didn't bite the bait, "I don't know, maybe teaching?" His reply was short and vague so he could get Minho talking more, but the irresolution in his voice was authentic—Taemin didn't know what to do with his life after getting in college, and finding out that Minho himself (his hyung, his senior; _supposedly_ wise where Taemin wasn't) was, too, clueless about that didn't help easing Taemin's anxiety.

"Why become a teacher?" Minho frowned, incomprehension displayed on every line of his handsome face. This was definitely a profession few teenagers considered taking on nowadays— _interesting_.

And then all of a sudden Taemin found himself telling Minho _everything_ about his teachers—the ones he loved, the ones he hated, the ones he feared. Taemin told Minho full detail of his story with his first favorite teacher: the one who made him stop being afraid of teachers, the one who gave him the guts to start asking questions during class, the one who showed him teaching actually transcended classrooms.

Minho had a dreamy yet intent gaze as he took in every word of Taemin's endless babbling; eyes following his dongsaeng's every gesture—they had been limited at first due to Taemin's naturally shy attitude, however his motions grew bolder and confident as Minho motivated his talking by nodding his head and making low, affirmative noises at the right moments. _This kid, he's interesting_.

Taemin might look engrossed in telling how he found it ironic that his friend favored writing lyrics during class instead of paying attention to their Literature teacher, but Taemin still did notice how Minho got him to do all the talking by himself. Still, something completely different made Taemin quiet himself—they'd been talking for too long now; wasn't time for Minho to say goodbye?

"Hyung, haven't you missed your stop?" Taemin asked on impulse and blushed at how nosy he had been for inquiring Minho so constantly—Minho's stop was Minho's business; questioning him like that made Taemin look like a bizarre prier.

Minho smirked openly at Taemin's flustered face, finding his reaction funny. Contrary to the youngster's expectations, Minho answered his question just fine, "Today I'm visiting my older brother and his wife."

"You have a hyung? So do I!" Taemin hoped his exclamation hadn't sounded as childish to Minho as it had to his own ears, "My brother, Taesun-hyung, is super protective towards me…" Taemin stopped himself before he began babbling once more; he had a mission: to listen more to Minho's voice. "Is your brother like that, too?"

"Luckily, he isn't. But he likes to challenge me and I have a somewhat competitive nature, so we always end up going against each other." Minho replied with a small smile on his lips and although he had meant it to be a complaint, affection was evident in every word of his.

"Really? How?" _Gee, Taemin, you might as well bury him under your never ending inquiries_.

However, his fear for having his greedy curiosity driving Minho away was in vain since the elder in no time started to enthusiastically tell him about one of the many soccer matches he'd played with his brother and father. This was the first time that Taemin heard Minho say so many long sentences ("long" as in containing more than five words), and _damn_ , his voice was ten times more beautiful when he changed his tone in order to tell his story properly—when Minho tried to mimic his father's hoarse voice, Taemin didn't even bother stifling a loud laughter, which made blood rush to Minho's face and color it in an attractive red.

Now Minho was telling Taemin about the only time he fought with his brother, "…Minseok-hyung wouldn't stop bragging about his victory, so I said—"

"I'm so sorry, hyung," Taemin's apology was soaked in lament; it was indeed a shame to interrupt Minho when he was talking so much. "I gotta go now," he explained, taking his backpack from the floor and standing up hesitantly as if not really wishing to leave.

Nonetheless, it didn't go unnoticed by Taemin the fast flow of emotions behind Minho's features—disappointment, astonishment, embarrassment. The last sentiment prevailed for the man's cheeks were faintly rosy while apologizing, "Oh, all right. Sorry."

Taemin giggled openly at the sight of a flustered 1.8m-tall Minho. "See you around, hyung?" This time Taemin wasn't making fun of Minho or anything; this had been an honest question. It had taken them about one month to see each other again; how long would Taemin have to wait for their next encounter to happen?

Minho echoed Taemin's wondering, "I hope we'll meet in less than a month next time," he said this jokingly, yet there was such a hint of sincerity in his captivating eyes that it had Taemin speechless; he bowed politely in his mute state before leaving the subway car.

When climbing the stairs to the street, Taemin stumbled clumsily on one of the steps as his mind finally caught on a small detail present in Minho's eyes. He leaned his body against the metal handrail, realization too overwhelming—Taemin's whole body shuddered in satisfaction at his latest insight.

It looked like he wasn't the only one too invested in this, after all.

* * *

Unlike what many people presumed, Taemin wasn't an oblivious person.

Yes, he did space out once in a while, yet he was pretty sharp-eyed and these observant skills of his weren't made of use only when playing his self-made guessing game—Taemin _always_ took note of everything when talking with someone. _Everything_ : every change of facial expression, every quaver of voice, every _minimum_ curl of lips. Taemin knew when people were telling lies (they would avoid looking into his eyes), when girls were flirting _at_ him (they would play "seductively" with strands of their hair), when his friends were truly enjoying his company (they would smile openly, eyes glittering in youthful excitement).

Taemin also knew when people were attracted to him—it was a mix of all previous three: the constant averting of gazes, the captivating motions, the honest wide grins. Taemin knew this and so did Minho—truth be told, Taemin never even put up a proper fight when concealing his feelings, pretty much wearing his heart on his sleeve since day one. Thus, he was aware that Minho had seen through him, however the same couldn't be said about Minho; the elder still thought he was indecipherable, but unbeknownst to him, his armor had a crack—and Taemin had effectively seen through it, too.

Nothing escaped his eyes—Taemin saw interest blossom behind Minho's eyes during their talks. Taemin saw how Minho's intent gaze always followed his every gesture. Taemin saw Minho's hesitation every time he had to get out of the subway. Taemin saw that the enthusiasm in Minho's features matched his own when they ran into each other. Taemin saw in the reflex of the window the enigmatic glances Minho threw towards him when he thought Taemin wasn't looking.

Taemin wasn't blind; he wouldn't act like those shoujo manga girls who believed that the male lead held no interest for them despite all obvious signals indicating the opposite—he was aware that, in the end, he was as attracted to Minho as Minho himself was to him. Yet, there was an unknown obstacle in between them and their happily ever after. Dramas aside, Taemin _knew_ for sure that there was something holding Minho back, making him unable to fully express any affection whatsoever for Taemin.

And Taemin wished to know what this "something" was.

He wished to break through every single barrier of Minho's, he wished to set things straight, he wished to know at least Minho's fucking cell phone number—nonetheless, Taemin couldn't help but feel his whole boldness be replaced bit by bit by some annoying, silly fear. Yes, he was pretty much convinced that Minho harbored feelings for him (feelings not too far-off from Taemin's own), but it didn't assure him a positive response of Minho's part. So Taemin'd have to be careful not to let any foolish hope grow inside him—after all, the greater the expectation, the higher the fall.

Still, Taemin sensed that he'd have to take the initiative otherwise they wouldn't get off of square one—taking into account Minho's _something_ , if Taemin left it all for him to decide they'd tiptoe around the matter for God knew how long. Worse: they might not even see each other ever again if they kept on relying on subways for that. Fuck it, Taemin was in to such extent that he didn't mind having his love unrequited despite all evidence pointing otherwise—he'd take whatever offer was on the table to be able to keep his connection with Minho: friend, colleague; it was all Minho's call.

…And this was why when they next saw each other, the first words that fell from Taemin lips were, "I like you."

That was it.

He saw it—Taemin saw _it_ ; dread marring Minho's features. Taemin was sure that Minho wasn't surprised at his revelation per se—actually, this couldn't be considered an _actual_ revelation since the fact disclosed had been known by them for quite some time now. It took Taemin five painful seconds to realize Minho was in reality stunned at him for having had the guts to say these three words. _Things aren't going as planned for you, are they, Minho?_ There was no authentic bite in Taemin's thought though—he knew Minho yearned for clarification as much as him and since the elder wouldn't take the first step, then Taemin himself had.

Minho's face was currently displaying something between melancholy and frustration, much to Taemin's puzzlement. He licked his lips, trying to come up with the right words, however it seemed that his brain had emptied itself defensively upon finding out that _hey, declaring your love for Minho_ had turned out to be a Very Bad idea (capital letters needed to fully express its gravity). Yep, Taemin was already chickening out and letting go of his bold act, "Minho—"

"Stop it," Minho cut him off promptly, not giving Taemin the chance of saying anything else _luckily_ —after all, what _could_ Taemin say? He had no idea. He had even forgotten to address the elder as _hyung_ in his distress.

Despite Minho's interruption preventing Taemin from embarrassing himself any further, it only raised more inquiries in his mind. So far Minho hadn't slapped him across the face for what he had said, so Taemin was allowed to risk asking some questions… Right? "What? What do you mean?" He questioned tentatively.

Minho sighed, shaking his head as if Taemin had just asked for something extremely tiresome and unreasonable. "Just… Stop it," his voice was unexpectedly _exhausted_ and his movements were equally sluggish as he rose from his seat, got his bags in hands and headed for the doors wordlessly.

Taemin only snapped out of his daze when a familiar female voice started rattling off ordinary safety warnings about the doors being about to close. "What the fuck?!" He exclaimed thoughtlessly as he finally processed that Minho _had just walked out on him_ , and some passengers " _shh_ ed" him for disturbing the subway's ever-present library-like silence. Paying their complaints no mind, Taemin grabbed his backpack and quickly left the car, going after Minho.

What the fuck, indeed. If Minho thought that running away from Taemin would fix everything, he was _damn_ wrong. He walked across the platform while practically stomping his feet on the flooring; this noise grew louder upon taking glimpse of a sign nearby—this wasn't even Minho's usual stop, for Christ's sake! He was outright avoiding Taemin, _great_.

He spotted Minho close to the metal stairs, his long legs giving him a great deal of advantage—thanks to them, Minho would soon be on the streets and out of Taemin's sight. His movements faltered in realization as he saw Minho's retreating back—it was now or never, make-or-break.

_What should I do?_

Taemin hated attracting attention, he truly did; however his instincts kicked in right upon seeing his only chance slip dangerously through his fingers for never to be found again—Taemin yelled his guts out, screaming the first thing that came into his mind at such crucial moment, "Minho!"

Minho's quick steps came to a halt almost at the same second, head automatically turning towards the source of noise—and so did a number of passersby. Taemin blushed faintly in response to receiving a mix of angry and confused stares from so many strangers, yet the look in his eyes remained hard as he aimed his unwavering gaze at Minho. It was clear in his features that he hadn't expected to be followed by Taemin, but Minho's shock gave way to resignation as he realized at last that he couldn't simply turn Taemin away since Minho himself nurtured some affection for him.

Now slow steps took Minho to the bottom of the stairs while his eyes kept trained on Taemin's determined ones. Cornered by a kid, how funny—however Taemin wasn't a mere kid to Minho; rather, Taemin wasn't a kid _at all_ for he had grown some whereas Minho had cowardly stalled in denial. He passed by Taemin without uttering a single word to stand beside a gray column, where no one would bump into them on their way to the subway.

Understanding his hyung's thinking, Taemin followed him as silently as Minho himself—despite the lack of words, the air around them gave off a gloomy-like fueled by a thick mix of expectation and dread for what would be discussed. ( _"Discussed", it makes this look like a business meeting_ , Taemin snorted inwardly.)

Taemin stood before Minho, head held high while staring straight into the other's eyes as if challenging Minho to avert his gaze. It didn't take Minho much long to cast his eyes down and Taemin pursed his lips at the elder's hesitancy—so he'd have to be the one starting The Talk, wouldn't he?

"You told me to 'stop it'. Stop what?" Taemin inquired in a soft voice; he guessed going hard on Minho wouldn't get him talking much, so Taemin would have to play the good cop for now. Seeing that Minho still had no intention of answering him, Taemin pressed in, "Hyung." Despite his voice sounding pretty firm, Taemin's whole being had been swept into endless restlessness— _what will be Minho's answer?_

Taemin's persistence earned an upset click of tongue of Minho's part; brow furrowed in so deep thought that Taemin could practically hear engines clatter inside Minho's mind as he picked his words carefully (so unlike the youngster's impulsive stance). "Stop mistaking gratefulness for fondness. Stop talking to me just because I've 'saved' you from some subway pervert. You owe me nothing," each sentence was punctuated with a heavy sigh, making Taemin feel like a kid being scolded by their parents.

When it finally sank in, Taemin felt like screaming in frustration.

So _that_ was it? Minho believed that Taemin chatted with him out of _gratitude_ alone? Shouldn't Taemin be one assuming Minho put up with his babbling only out of _sympathy_? And yet he didn't; this idea had never manifested itself in Taemin's brain because he _knew_ —he had read the signs, he knew Minho truly enjoyed his company. "You really think I talk with you because you saved me that time? Hyung, I'm not that tactless!"

Minho raised an eyebrow skeptically and Taemin tried to ignore how cold his heart felt at the elder's evident dubiety. "Are you sure? We've met like… Five times?" Minho squinted his eyes as if this would help him remember all their encounters. This was all for show, obviously—Minho knew by heart all times he had been greeted by Taemin's energetic yet timid self. "How can you come to like me after just a couple of chats? You don't even know me."

"Gee, you take me for a dumb, don't you?" Taemin tsked. Minho was deep in denial—he was building yet more and more walls around him, wishing to become untouchable. Well, much for Minho's "misfortune", Taemin had already seen through his act long ago. Unshaken by Minho's harsh words, Taemin persevered, "You're kind, you're—"

"You. Don't. Know. Me," Minho interrupted him rather discourteously, and Taemin was taken aback by his impolite action, surprise silencing him. "You may believe I helped you that day because I have a kind heart et cetera, but I'm afraid this romanticized view of yours doesn't meet reality. I was just a guy heading for the doors to get off at my stop and I happened to see you. That's it. There was no good intention behind my deed, I simply did it because I felt like it. It was all coincidence. You shouldn't even have thanked me; I don't deserve it." Finished, Minho turned his back to Taemin, ready to walk away.

Taemin overcame his shock faster than he'd expected upon processing the unfathomable idea just presented— _Minho was crucifying himself because he saved Taemin only by chance?—_ , lips moving on their own as they spilled the first thing that came into Taemin's mind, "You idiot." Minho stopped dead on his tracks, face still out of Taemin's sight. "Any other person wouldn't have hesitated turning a blind eye to what was happening to me. You didn't. Fuck coincidence, I don't care about this shit. Do you know what I truly care about?" Cuss words probably weren't appropriate for this moment, however Taemin didn't give a fuck—he was angry, he was angry at Minho for being so stubborn and dense. He placed his hand on Minho's right shoulder, turning him around on his spot so he could look the elder in the eye—Minho offered Taemin no resistance, this was a good sign. "I care about you. A lot."

Minho's eyes softened at his words, his heart beating crazily fast—shit, he was going to give in. "You don't know me," he mustered up his last ounce of obstinacy to whisper this statement. And this weak whisper, so different when compared to Minho's usually strong speech, showed Taemin he was winning. He could feel it—Minho's walls crashing down as he came to realization at last.

"You're just like a broken record, aren't you?" Taemin joked gently, wishing to ease the tension between them. "I don't know you, eh? I know you're a hardworking student; your backpack is always heavy due to all those textbooks of yours," Minho's silence only increased Taemin's confidence, "You don't carry that laptop up and down for nothing, right? I bet you use it for studying during your free time. I also know you're a lovable brother; your affection for Minseok-ssi is crystal clear. Your stories. Your silence. They both have told me so much about you. I didn't approach you out of gratitude and you know that. Stop lying to yourself because, frankly, you're deceiving no one. I've seen through you already; it's too late." Taemin said this as tenderly as possible; sheer fondness soaked his tongue, _love_ dripped from his words.

Minho lowered his head, yet this did little to hide the blush that colored his cheeks in response to the youngster's declaration, "Taemin, I don't know what you're talking about." There was no resolution in his voice, and _bang_ —Taemin could almost _see_ the last barrier that kept them apart crumble down before his eyes.

"Yes, you know—and so do I, by the way. Do you want to know a secret?" Taemin whispered playfully, fully aware that his lightheartedness had Minho at ease, "You have nothing to worry about since I like you because you're you," Taemin grimaced at his own gibberish. "God, this didn't make any sense, right? I swear it had sounded better inside my head."

"You like me because I'm me?" After all their talks, Taemin now knew when Minho was holding back a grin, which always resulted in him opening a small, charming smile—he had this same smile on, now.

"Yeah," Taemin nodded; honest assurance strongly present in his speech, "No subway perverts, no polite gratitude. Just... Just you." Why did Taemin always get so inarticulate whenever he spoke with Minho? _It's love_ , a voice deep inside informed him knowingly and this time it lacked its usually mocking tone–Taemin enjoyed this change quite a lot. "So tell me, Choi Minho. Tell me what I wanna hear, what you wanna say."

Taemin's gaze bored into Minho's, making him lower his head out of unexpected shyness once again. Minho had his lower lip trapped in between his teeth when he final allowed his slightly tinged face to be seen by Taemin, "Lee Taemin... I—"

* * *

The subway swayed brusquely, making Taemin's head slide off its comfortable support. Displeased, he grunted something incomprehensible in response since he was still too drowsy to speak properly. Taemin winced when he was promptly blinded by the fluorescent lights after trying to open his eyes—gee, he would never learn, would he? Head back on its comfy spot, his eyelids fluttered shut as he decided to resume his slumber.

"Oh, no, you're not going back to sleep," a baritone complained softly and the surface under Taemin's head shook rebelliously, contrary to the youngster's sleepy objections.

Nonetheless, Taemin still tried to return to his cozy stance, his right side leaning against Minho's as he nuzzled into the elder's neck briefly, "But I was having a preeeetty good dream."

"Taemin, c'mon, our stop is the next one," unfazed by Taemin's childish whining, one of Minho's hands were placed on his cheek to indicate he should stop engaging any further body contact for they were in public. Despite the censure present in his motion, Taemin caught sight of something akin to yearning behind Minho's eyes as he withdrew himself from the elder's frame.

Taemin batted his eyelashes at Minho in a (he hoped) seductive manner, however he still obliged to his boyfriend's unspoken request and finally sat properly beside him, "Won't you ask me what my dream was about?"

"What were you dreaming about?" Minho promptly indulged to Taemin's urge, who wasn't fooled by his deep voice devoid of any emotion—Taemin could see their reflection in the subway dark window across from their seats; there was an evident smile curling Minho's lips and a minimum note of sincere curiosity in his tone.

Taemin leaned in to whisper against Minho's ear, "I was dreaming about the day you finally confessed your love to me." He now faced Minho to enjoy a full view of the blush coloring his cheeks in an appealing red color. Sensing Taemin's eyes glued to his face, Minho stood up as soon as a female voiceover announced their stop—unlike before, when they both dreaded the end of their subway ride, Minho was now deeply grateful for the convenient interruption.

"Let's go, your parents hate when we're late for dinner," the elder said this with his back turned to Taemin so his flushed face wouldn't be in his sight, yet this didn't help much since the youngster still let out an amused laugh at Minho's embarrassment—it was so cute and attractive; Taemin would never get enough of it. Teasing Minho had become one of Taemin's main hobbies and he soon got used to doing it to his heart's content for he had full assurance that the elder would never walk away—true to his words, there Minho was, standing by the doors as he waited patiently for Taemin.

He took his backpack from its usual spot on the floor, teeth clenching slightly at how heavy it was due to his college books. Still, Taemin welcomed the weight over his spine and his sure steps brought him to Minho, standing by his side as they waited for the doors to open. When they did so, Taemin held out his hand wordlessly for he knew Minho would have no trouble understanding his intentions, "Let's go?" He asked, free of any hesitancy since there was no uncertain _See you around_ anymore; this had given way to sheer confidence.

Hand in hand, Taemin and Minho left the subway together.


End file.
